Revelations
by Ecri
Summary: Sam deals with learning of the President's illness.
1. Disclaimer

I do not own these characters or situations. I am only borrowing them for a little while. I made no money from this story and wrote it purely for entertainment purposes.

Okay, you can go and read it now. 

Thanks!


	2. Default Chapter

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TITLE: Revelations

Psuedonym: Ecri

E-mail: ecri@comcast.net

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Category: Episode Related, The Fall's Gonna Kill You and Manchester parts 1 & 2

Rating: PG

Summary: Sam deals with learning of the President's illness.

Spoliers: Potentially everything through Manchester Parts 1 &2

Warnings: Angst

Toby heard Sam return. He waited a moment, and, when his deputy showed no sign of approaching his office, Toby went to his. 

Toby stood in the doorway wishing Sam had come to him. Why hadn't he? Toby had made a point to let Sam know he'd be there. His deputy sat at his desk, staring at nothing. His shoulders rounded, his face expressionless, Sam seemed a statue.

"Sam." Toby was about to call the name again, when Sam finally looked up.

"Do you want to talk?"

Sam just glared at Toby a moment.

"Sam" 

"You really want to do this, Toby?" Sam spoke so softly, Toby wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. Luckily, Sam wasn't in the mood to be misheard. 

Sam erupted from his chair knocking it over in the process. Toby took a step backwards, unsure if it was the abruptness of the move, or the fact that it was Sam doing it that startled him more. "Do you really want to do this?" Sam stepped around his desk. "I was last to know, wasn't I?"

"You were working on"

"Damn it, Toby! I know what I was working on! What about the way I do my job made you think this would make me unable to do it?" Seemingly spent, Sam's anger faded as quickly as it had ignited, and once again he was quiet. He leaned against the desk as if he'd lost all strength. The suddenness of the change startled Toby almost as much as the initial outburst. 

"He lied." Sam whispered.

"He didn't lie, he just didn't tell."

"That's a crock and you know it! Why is it I'm so easy to lie to–or to keep things from?" Sam walked back around his desk and righted his chair, slumping into it. 

Cautiously, Toby took a few steps closer.

"He's made my entire career a lie." Sam said, not caring if Toby heard him or not.

Toby stared at Sam, puzzled. "How did the President do that?"

"Every time I told someone he was the real thing, every time I thought we were differentmy father made my personal life a lie, so I clung to my professional life. I figured that even if you had kept secrets from me, at least everyone else in the White House was being honest with me. That was, apparently, too much to ask." 

Sam slammed his hand down on his desk, making Toby jump. "This is the White House, Toby! It's supposed to stand for something. It's supposed to mean something." Sam dropped his chin to his chest. "We're supposed to be honest."

Toby almost laughed at his young friend's naivete. "Sam, even if you want to call it a lie, and I'm not sure I'd go that far, certainly not publicly, it's not as though no President has ever kept information concerning his health from the public. He's human. He made a mistake"

"I'm not talking about _everyone_ in the White House, Toby. I meant _us_. I meant _this administration_. Damn it, I meant _him_! _He's_ supposed to stand for something. He's not supposed to betraynot supposed" 

__

This ground holds the graves of people who died for it, who gave what Lincoln called the 'last full measure of devotion, of fidelity.' Do you understand? The last full measure of devotion to...treason against them is

"Sam, did you just say something about treason?" Toby's heart skipped a beat. The younger man was not taking this well. "This wasn't treason, Sam, you're being ridiculous."

Sam hadn't realized he'd been mumbling parts if the speech–if you could call it that–that he'd given Donna a few weeks ago. "I'm being ridiculous." He said it in soft even tones as if it were a possibility he hadn't considered. "Maybe that's why no one can be honest with me."

Toby sighed. "This is about the President. This isn't about you."

Sam laughed.

  
_This is about your mother and me. This isn't about you._

Toby waited, but Sam didn't seem inclined to add anything to his laughter. "Sam, talk to me."

"Why?"

Toby shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "What?"

Sam sighed. "Not tonight, Toby. I'm going home." Sam rose, grabbed his jacket and briefcase, and headed out, not bothering to look back at his boss, even though he could feel Toby's eyes boring into his back.

****

Josh's Office, The Next Day

Toby entered Josh's office despite Donna's protests, and closed the door firmly behind him. Josh stared at the Communications Director, puzzled. "Can I help you with something?" A wry smile played at the corners of his mouth. "You can tell me if you've seen Sam today."

Josh's brows furrowed in concern. "No. I came in early hoping to catch him. I know they told him last night, and I waited up for him to call. He never did, even though I left some messages for him." He looked down at his desk, distinctly uncomfortable. "How'd he take it?"

"About the way that kid in the movie took it when he found out that Shoeless Joe Jackson may have thrown" Toby sighed in frustration, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "I think he called it treason." Toby slapped his hand against his leg in a feeble attempt to vent his frustration. _Say it ain't so, Jed._

"Treason?" Josh stared at Toby. "Are you sure?"

"I don't know," Toby admitted in frustration. "He was mumbling something about Lincoln, fidelity, and devotionI don't think he even knew he was saying it out loud."

Josh nodded. He recognized the words Donna had used to describe Sam's tirade about Daniel Gault and the importance of what he'd done. Sam was a stubborn one, and if he were equating this situation with the Daniel Gault thing, or with his fatherwell, what else would he do? "Sam's a little shaken right now, Toby. He'll come around." He put down his pen, and tried to sound reassuring. "I'll talk to him."

"I hope so. I don't want to lose him over this."

Josh nodded in agreement. "I don't, either." 

  
Toby got the feeling Josh hadn't been talking about losing the White House Deputy Communications Director. He'd been talking about losing Sam. Toby felt the weight on his own shoulders double as he left Josh's office.

****

Manchester, NH, The Bartlet Farm House

Sam stood by the fence wishing Connie had not found him. He'd still defended the President. He had an obligation. He couldn't help himself. The truth was, Sam still somehow believed in President Bartlet.

He was glad when she finally left. In a moment, though, he realized he was, again, no longer alone. Without looking behind him, he addressed his visitor. "What can I do for you, Josh?"

Josh jumped, startled. "How'd you know I was here?"

Sam laughed a hollow laugh, which disturbed Josh. "Contrary to your own personal opinion, you, Josh, are not an outdoorsman."

Josh smiled. "Maybe not, but I could be."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "If we redefine the word."

Josh strolled over to stand by Sam. Leaning on the fence, he tried to study Sam's profile without Sam noticing. Sam noticed.

"Let go of it, Josh."

"Sam, you've been so"

"So have you. So have CJ, Toby, and even Dr. Bartlet." He shook his head in consternation, not looking at Josh. "You keep trying to force this conversation."

Josh sighed. It was true. Since he'd spoken with Toby about Sam the day after his best friend had been told about Bartlet's condition, he'd been gauging Sam's emotions, sometimes attempting to draw Sam out and get him to see that this wasn't the end. Failing to come up with anything persuasive, Josh tried the only thing he still believed. "He's the real thing, Sam. He still is, even after all of this."

"We could still have won."

"What?"

"If he had told us from the beginning, we could still have won the election. We could still have gotten him into The White House."

A wistful expression crossed Josh's face. "That would have been some campaign."

"Yeah."

"You sure you're okay?"

"As okay as you are."

"I know how hard this is for you"

"Please, Josh, don't."

"Don't what?"

Sam sighed a shaky, unsteady sound. "Don't pretend I'm taking this worse than anyone else. Don't pretend this is harder for me" To Sam's horror his voice cracked.

Josh forced Sam to turn around, and stared at him until the younger man was looked at him. "Sam, who's taking this the hardest is really not the point. We're all taking itthe way we're taking it." 

With a new determination, Josh plunged ahead, hoping Sam would accept his help. "Thiscame at a bad time for you, personally."

Sam opened his mouth to object, but Josh held up a hand as if that alone could hold back Sam's words. "You know it did. You were still stinging from your father's" He didn't know what to call it.

"Revelation?" Sam supplied.

Josh smiled a small, sad smile. "Your father's revelation. Then there was the Daniel Gault thing, and I'm sure you haven't forgotten the drop-in, yet. Sam, this is not a trend. This does not illustrate any great reluctance to keep you informed. This is not proof that honesty does not exist. This was"

"What?"

Josh shrugged helplessly. "Bad luck. Look, I've seen you crawl into yourself and I can't help but think you don't intend to crawl back out again anytime soon. I just want you to realize that we can still do all the things we wanted to do. We can still make this presidency about something. We can still win."

Sam laughed. "Is this a campaign speech?"

Josh allowed himself a chuckle. "That's your department. I don't want his to sound weird, Sam. I just want you to know there are still things in this world you can count on."

Sam smiled. "Things I can count on? You've been talking to Donna."

Josh nodded. "She was upset that night about what she did  


"About what she did or about the way I took it?"

"Sam, don't. Donna was horrified to realize that she'd used you. She wanted me to know about it because she thought that she and I should both be people you can depend on"

Sam winced.

Josh stared at him. "What? You don't believe me. Bartlet is still the real thinglet melet him prove that to you."

"It's not thatyou just ended that sentence with a preposition."

"Shut up." Josh said, grinning in spite of himself.

"You shouldn't do that."

"Shut up!"

"But there are rules..."

"Freak."

  
Sam smiled, and walked with Josh back to the farmhouse.

****

The Next Morning, Manchester, Bartlet Farm House

Sam strolled through the early morning mist. The speech had gone well. President Bartlet had discarded most of it and had spoken from the heart. Connie, Doug, and Bruno were livid, but the Senior Staff just took it in stride.

Doug had asked Sam how he could be so blasé about it. "It was a bad speech, Doug. You know it was. His was better." He hadn't waited to see how Doug had taken that. He didn't want to get into an argument.

The President had called a breakfast meeting, and he'd purposely arrived a little early so he could soak in the calm of the undisturbed morning–before the hustle and bustle of Politics and Campaigning turned Bartlet's farm into another West Wing. Needing some time alone, Sam strolled across the grounds. He had a lot to sort out. He and Josh had gone out to the bar again last night after their conversation by the fence. They hadn't gotten falling down drunk or anything. There were too many members of the press corps around for that, but it had been nice to leave the stress of the re-election and the grand jury investigation behind. 

As he walked, Sam realized how beautiful the sunrise was, and stopped to take in the view. So captivated was he by the spectacle, that he found he'd forgotten to breathe.

"Sam! How are you feeling?" 

Bartlet's sudden appearance next to him startled Sam. "I'm fine, Mr. President." Sam slipped his hands behind his back so Bartlet would not see them shaking.

"Oh." After a moment of shared silence, he continued. "Toby says you aren't always fine when you say you're fine."

"Maybe, I'm not, sir, but I'm sure I will be." Sam paused and cleared a non-existent frog from his throat. 

Bartlet's surprise at Sam's admission was clear. "Samwalk with me."

Looking trapped, Sam followed.

"Sam, I understand you're angry. I understand you had yourself a series of"

"Revelations." Sam supplied the word for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

Bartlet nodded. "Yeah."

They walked in silence for a few moments, while Bartlet considered his next words. When they reached the barn, Bartlet seated himself on a bale of hay, gesturing for Sam to have a seat on another bale nearby. "They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, but that's really all I had." 

He looked Sam in the eye, and Sam saw again why he and Josh had been convinced that Bartlet was the one man in politics they could support wholeheartedly. "I never intended to hurt anyone, Sam. I never intended for this to become the scandal of the century. Did you know that's what the Supermarket tabloids are calling it?"  


Sam shook his head.

"Well, they are. I believed it was my personal, private business. I believed it wasn't anything anyone else needed to know." He stared at Sam, willing him to understand. "Absit invidia. Do you know what that means?"

Sam nodded. "May there be no envy or malice." 

Together, they translated Sam's translation. "No offense intended."

Barltet turned his attention to a piece of hay that had found its way into his hands. "I had dreams of this job, you know. I wanted it. I just wasn't sure I wanted to run. I wasn't supposed to win. I told CJ that. Youall of you, CJ, Toby, Josh, Leo, and youyou were why I won. I never would have without all of you. But, even though I never thought I'd win, I did allow myself to dream about it. I dreamed of all that I could do. Of all the ways I could make this country betterI dreamed of improvingchanging..."

  
He turned away from Sam, and directed his bitter expression instead to the coming sun. "Aegri somnia vana."

"No!" Sam's voice broke Bartlet from his internal musings.

"Pardon me?" The President was not accustomed to being yelled at on his own farm.

"Mr. President, those dreams werewhat got you here. You can't call them a sick man's empty dreams.' "

Bartlet laughed without humor. "I thought I made it clear. All of you got me here."

Sam nodded impatiently. "But without your dream to be President, we never could have done it, and even if we had, without the dream, you wouldn't have been the President you are."

"Would that be such a bad thing?"

"Yes. You'rethe real thing."

"I've heard you and Josh throwing that phrase around. I don't know what the real thing is, Sam, but I'm just a man." He paused, but continued before Sam could protest. "I am curious though. I haven't asked anyone, but do you think we could have won if I'd revealed this before the election?"

"I'd like to think we would have won, and I know it would have been a hell of a race. I think you should have been honest with us at the very least, even if you decided later not to tell the public. We deserved to know." Sam stood, his frustration making him restless. This was the first time anyone had asked him what he thought about this. 

He paced turning away from the President and allowing his words to tumble out of his mouth uncensored–the way he usually wrote a first draft of a speech. His voice grew louder as he spoke. "If you think so highly of us that you're sure we won the election for you, how could you, at the same time, think so little of us as not to tell us the truth? If you'd given us the option, we could have come up with a plan. We sure wouldn't be facing a grand jury, criminal charges, and the ends of our careers" Horror stopped his voice in his throat, and he whipped around to face Bartlet again. The President sat as he had before looking up at him.

"I'm sorry, Mr. President." Sam's voice was softer than a whisper, and he'd bowed his head, muffling it further. Bartlet thought perhaps he had imagined hearing it at all, until Sam looked up, and tears standing in his eyes, repeated, in a louder and clearer voice, "I'm sorry, Mr. President."

Bartlet stood and placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Don't be. You're right. I was wrong." Bartlet smiled at the wide-eyed look on Sam's face. "I am sorry, Sam. I never meant to deceive anyone. Least of all the people to whom I owewell, if not everything, close to it. Everything I don't already owe to Abby at any rate."

Sam wanted to say something, but his mind was a blank.

Bartlet wasn't through, anyway. "Sam, I never told this to anyone, but when I look at you, and Josh, and Charlie, I see the sons I never had." He ignored the startled expression on Sam's face and continued. "You're the middle son. You don't get as much attention as Charlie does. He's with me all the time. You don't get as much attention as Josh. Well, maybe that's because he can be so–Josh–and maybe that's because he was shot. I don't know. But, Sam, you are the son who reminds me most of me."

Sam's mouth fell open.

"Except, of course," Jed Bartlet continued, "you are a better man than I."

Sam began to shake his head in protest. "No, Mr. President"

"I'm not finished, Sam." Bartlet chided gently, waiting until Sam shut his mouth. "I hope you will consider what I am about to say. If not, now, then sometime in the future, I'd like you to think back on this moment and" he cut himself off, and smiled a warm, fatherly smile at his middle son. "Sam, you could be President somedayassuming I haven't ruined your political career with my stupidity and selfishness."

"I appreciate what you're saying, sir, but I couldn'tI mean, I never considered"

Bartlet laughed. "I never considered it, well, not _seriously_, until Leo put the idea in my head. Josh could be your Leo."

The thought made Sam smile. It was a good comparison. He'd never really considered it before, but Josh was a lot like Leo. He could see Josh fiercely defending him–had seen his friend do it for him already. How much more would he do it for President Seaborn? Sam shook his head, as if trying to dislodge the thought. "I am flattered"

"Well, don't worry about it nowson." He added the last tentatively, and, when Sam smiled, he did, too. "I promise to be on the level with you from now on, Sam. I'll do it regardless of what you answer to my next request, but I want you to promise me that, one day, you'll think about itabout being President. I think you could do this country a world of good."

  
Sam was about to protest again, but thought better of it. "I promise, sir."

"Good!" Bartlet's vehemence made them both laugh. He clapped his hands together once, enjoying the sound, then rubbed his hands together as if in anticipation. "What's next?"

Sam thought about that for a second. "Breakfast, sir?"

"Yeah, let's go!" As they walked back to the farmhouse in a companionable silence, Jed draped an arm over Sam's shoulders. 

It was going to be a good day.


End file.
